


In Another Life, In A Thousand Stories

by Lolymoon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Fanon Swan Queen, Angst, F/F, Family Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot Collection, Smut, Swan-Mills Family, the appropriate warnings will figure at the beginning of each one-shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 12,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolymoon/pseuds/Lolymoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Emma and Regina love each other, in another life, in a thousand stories.</p>
<p>A collection of one-shots written for 31 days of fanon Swan Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Creature of Habit

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to compile everything I've written for the fanon Swan Queen month here. There's a mix of everything, from the oblivious idiots in love trope to the Swan-Mills family bliss, there's light and dark, shameless smut, angsty pinning, take your pic. 
> 
> Some entries are part of a challenge I've made to myself and there's a word count, for others, the words just ran away from me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, my lovely Swen <3
> 
> **March 1: Who makes the first move? How does it go? (500 words)**

This is insanity.

They eat breakfast together every day. Every. Single. Day. Henry yawning in his pajamas with ruffled hair that is growing impossibly long and Regina still wrapped in her blue-gray silky robe, makeup-less but still perfect in all the ways that counts, from the rich warm brown of her eyes to the soft smile that welcomes Emma every morning.

This has been going on for so long now she can’t even remember when it started. How it came to be. Why she now sleeps more often than not in Regina’s guest room instead of her own bed in her own appartment where she can finally step naked out of the bathroom without worrying about scaring the living shit out of her parents. Why she knows where everything is better than in her own home and when they’re running out of milk and she has to go buy some. Why she can tell both their schedules by the minute (it helps that Regina is such a creature of habit). Why she knows how Regina smells for each time of the day, in the morning (warm linen and toothpaste), after her shower (Monoï and Shea butter shampoo, citrus shower gel), after she comes back from work (Jasmine and Amber with the lingering scent of coffee), right before she goes to bed (freshly scrubbed face with lotion and wine-smelling breath). Why she never realized any of it before.

Maybe it’s a new trick of the light today. Maybe it’s the blossoming air of early Spring. Maybe it’s chance finally knocking at her door.

 

“We should go out tonight. You and me. Alone.”

 

Neither Henry nor Regina raise their heads, one still blearily eating his pancakes, the other the nose in her files.

“Hmm. Alright. Come and pick me up at 8. And don’t forget to stop by the dry-cleaner’s on your way home tonight, they have Henry’s blazer ready.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She blinks, familiarity kicking in too fast and making her lose focus for half a second. She frowns, awkwardly shifting on her seat.

“Regina…”

The woman lifts an eye and an eyebrow towards her, and Emma only notices now the streak of amusement in the dark eyes.

“And do not make reservations at Granny’s. I’ve seen enough of that menu for the rest of my life.”

“Fine, I’ll take you out of town. In fact, I know the perfect place. You may wanna dress up, Madame Mayor.”

Regina gives her a pointed look as if to say she’s not the one to worry about there, and slowly turns the next page of the last town budget report.

“It’s a date, Miss Swan.”

The smile floating on her lips while reading tells Emma everything she needs to know. She laughs and Henry squints at them.

“You guys are weird.”

She winks. He shrugs. Regina blushes. Emma lowers her eyes and nibbles on her toast, her stomach still empty but her heart quite full.


	2. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 2: Who is the first to find out about them and how? (300 words)**

They’re asleep.

Henry blinks and tilts his head, his thirst forgotten, the sight making him curious. He knows better than to bother her mother when she’s in her study, but the door is open and the light is still on. They’ve left it. Emma and Mom. And they’re asleep, together.

His socked feet make no sound on the parquet floor as he pads towards them, scratching his belly under his pajama top, studying their positions.

Mom is on the couch, her head thrown back over the armrest, her nice clothes all rumpled and creased – she’ll be pissed in the morning – her left arm dangling off.

Emma is sprawled out on Mom’s legs, arms tight around her waist and head resting on her belly.

He can’t quite figure out how they came to this, if they begun sitting next to each another and slipping further and further as they fell alseep, but it’s not his main focus.

What is, is the way Mom’s face is relaxed as he’d never seen before, as if she could go on sleeping like that for a hundred years, with a blissful smile on her lips. What is, is Emma holding on to her as she’s never held on to anyone in her life, needing, and not having to hide it, needing, and being strong and safe.

He throws a plaid over them, awkwardly tucking it around Emma, hoping Mom will be warmed enough by her human blanket.

His gaze roams over them several times, over lax limbs and peaceful faces, clothes askew and hair tousled, Emma’s mouth open against Mom’s belly, Mom’s right fingers buried deep in Emma’s hair.

He smiles, and something huge and sweet scratch in his throat, like the urge to both cry and laugh at once.

They took their damn time.


	3. You Love Her (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 3: When was the moment Regina realized she was in love? (300 words)**

It’s never about a moment.

Or it’s about all of them.

It’s the thought you don’t dare to entertain.

The hope you don’t dare to feed.

And the pull you cannot fight.

It’s an open hand and an awkward smile as you’re invited back into life by the daughter of an enemy, by the mother of a son, by a nemesis who’s also your savior. _“Henry would be happy to see you.”_

It’s her standing by your side in a place of death and locking tearful eyes and linking magic together and surviving, together. _“Maybe we are.”_

It’s her battling prejudices and seeing right through your pain and handing out her smile like a lifeline. _“I always know.”_

It’s her steady and stubborn against your raging tempests and heartbroken storms and going back for you in a way no one else ever has. _“I’m not gonna stop trying.”_

It’s glasses clinking together and alcohol burning down your throat and tears stinging in your eyes as promises are made. _“I”m in.”_

It’s comfort and familiarity and mocking each other’s habits and having each other’s backs so that the word safe never has to be a lie again. _“No matter what it means for both of us.”_

It’s having the first taste of losing her, and not being able to handle the nightmare that a world without Emma Swan would be.

It’s realizing too late what you’ve never wanted to accept, it’s watching the woman who’s saved your soul at the cost of her own thrashing in unfathomable pain in the swirling heart of darkness, it’s helplessness and defeat weighing your shoulders down even as love finally blossoms in your heart unbidden, breaking through bounds tightly wound by you and your fears.

You love her, and there’s no coming back from that.


	4. You Love Her (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 4: When was the moment Emma realized she was in love? (100 words)**

It’s not a moment, it’s an evidence.

It’s obvious and loud and blaring in your heart, clumsy and obnoxious like yourself, demanding and overwhelming like she is.

She pushes Henry’s heart into his chest, and she’s breaking by your side with every second it takes for him to breathe, and while she breaks, your heart jumps, crazed, and you can’t figure out why, until he’s awake and in both your arms, breathing moving living, and her hand brushes yours, and her scent is in your nose, and her warmth in your heart, and you think.

Oh shit.

You love her.


	5. The Swan and The Crow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 5: How do their phone backgrounds look? How about their snapchats? What do their texting conversations look like? (200 words)**

_**I still can’t believe you told your parents about us without consulting me first.** _

 

_Dammit woman I keep telling you, I didn’t tell them! It was an accident!_

 

_**Everytime you speak is an accident.** _

 

_Ha ha. I can’t help it that they’re so nosy!_

 

_**Well, what did you expect, having a naked picture of me on your phone background. Someone was bound to see it.** _

 

_Ah, so that’s what you’re really mad about._

 

_**Obviously. That, and the fact that I was robbed from the delight of seeing your mother’s face when she saw it. I’m twice mad at you, Emma.** _

 

_I’m really in the doghouse, aren’t I?_

 

_**Yes. Don’t even bother trying to sleep in my bed tonight, the couch is well enough for backstabbers.** _

 

_Ok listen, I’ll make it up to you. I promise. In the meantime, do you think you could stop reverting to crow posting everytime you’re angry at me? For one it’s really not the fastest way to hurl insults at me, and second, those fucking birds shit all over my desk. It’s annoying._

 

_**Wait until you see the state of your car. You should invest in some cleaning spray. Have a good afternoon, **Miss Swan**.** _


	6. Bad Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 6: What weird habits do they complain about from the other but secretly miss when the other isn’t around? (300 words)**
> 
> Smut alert.

“I see. So it’s only ‘my disgusting outfit’ when it’s on me.”

The smirk taunting her from the other side of the room was enough to make her knees buckle. It would have made the knees of a whole army go weak. And probably had.

A bare shoulder shrugged from under the red leather jacket it was wearing.

“Maybe I missed the touch of leather,” Regina drawled, and mouth-watering curves clad in full Evil Queen regalia, dark leather sliding over heated flesh, flashed into Emma’s mind as she took deliberate slow steps towards the dining table where her semi-naked lover waited.

Her hand was grasped in a tight hold, and unceremoniously shoved between uncrossing legs, lips brushing against her ear as hard nipples grazed her clothed front.

“Maybe I missed yours.”

“Fuck.”

“Well-put, Sheriff.”

“You’re so wet. How are you this fucking wet already? Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting for me here, spread on that table, touching yourself…”

“Well.” A pause, lips smacking. Emma’s fingers twitched, aching to enter slippery softness. “You specifically said you were 'on your way and famished’. I merely laid out the table for you.”

Emma bit her lips, took a long, hard look at yards of unblemished flesh on display for her, at the arousing contrast between olive skin and red leather, at lust-filled brown eyes, and she exhaled.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Less talking and more eating me out, Sheriff,” Regina ordered, hands circling Emma’s throat, applying pressure down her shoulders to make her kneel. She went willingly, inhaling deeply the heady fragrance of her lover’s arousal. She licked her lips, fingers teasing Regina’s entrance, then sliding home easily. She smiled at the loud moan flying off the queen’s mouth.

 

“Oh, Regina? Keep the jacket on.”

 


	7. A Little Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 7: How does their first kiss go? (500 words)**
> 
> Takes place during the break between 4A and 4B. Some naughty thoughts.

There was no doubt denying it, she was very drunk. Not enough to stumble or slur, but definitely enough to consider doing shots off _Madam Mayor Mills_ ’ stomach. That, in itself, was a thought so wild her own stomach starting doing somersaults and freaking backflips too. How did one late, boring evening at Regina’s office came to this, both of them at The Rabbit Hole, drunk off their ass and getting involved in a stupid drinking game? That was all Ruby’s fault, for starters, and Regina’s sad face, and Emma’s helplessness to stand it, and that stupid book that wouldn’t give them any goddamn clues… and also she should have thought twice about the consequences before becoming the Mayor’s drinking buddy.

“Come on, Em, we haven’t got all night!”

Ruby cheered her on, and Regina cocked her head to give her a slightly bleary, definitely challenging gaze.

“Do it Miss Swan, or I’ll have to take care of it _myself_.”

And maybe Emma was reading too much into it and maybe there was no innuendo here at all and she was a pervert but that godamned smirk was painted all over Regina’s face and she could feel her clit pratically throbbing from arousal at the sight of perfectly manicured fingers lifting Regina’s shirt up to reveal a smooth belly, and when she finally poured the shot on the warm, golden skin and lowered her mouth to lick it off, Emma couldn’t help the moan that was luckily swallowed by the music, and her teeth grazed against Regina’s navel in breathless need.

It wasn’t until later, when the bar quieted down and people started to fall asleep on their tables that Emma asked Regina if she wanted a taste of her completely improvised cocktail, and she should have seen it coming but her mind was quite foggy at the time, so when Regina’s fingers slipped under her chin and when her nose brushed against hers, Emma kept on smiling guilelessly, falling into her mouth with the ease of a newborn going for the breast. She opened her lips for Regina, welcoming her into her mouth, and pratically swooned at the velvet feel of her tongue gently stroking her. She grabbed Regina’s shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep herself upright while her head started swimming, and she didn’t even realize the loud moans that were vibrating in her throat until Regina chuckled softly and broke the kiss, gently sweeping her thumb over Emma’s lip.

“That was… an interesting flavor.”

“You should try it again – I mean – it’s a layered drink, you know, it asks for more than one tasting – it –”

She shivered as Regina’s lips brushed against hers again, and felt herself getting drunk on something different altogether, something that involved Regina’s molten eyes and plump lips.

“I believe now would be the perfect moment to shut up, Miss Swan.”

“Got it,” she nodded, and crushed Regina’s mouth against hers again.


	8. Slipping through my fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 8: How do they deal with Henry going to college? Or high school, for that matter? Who is impossible at parent teacher conferences? (500 words)**
> 
>  
> 
> Regal Believer feels ahead.

Henry’s graduating today and the Swan-Mills household is in a frenzy, hurried footsteps in the stairs and loud lamentations that the most random things are missing (first it’s Emma’s left shoe, then it’s the Benz’s keys and the new camera and why is David bringing his sword again, this isn’t a coronation?), they gather in the living-room, a fretful Emma, an already misty-eyed Snow and a proud and obnoxious David, waiting for Henry to come down in the pompous attire that such an important day warrants, and they don’t notice how Regina slips away quietly, down to the basement. She’s been so quiet all day, deflecting Emma’s anxious questions, standing steady against her restlessness, she’s been so quiet it’s easy for her to leave unnoticed, to go down to those old boxes filled with memories that she pulled out this morning and in front of which she crouches down, taking one toy after another in trembling hands, brushing against badly framed photographs with quaking fingers.

“It’s ridiculous that we have to wear a tie under this outfit, nobody’s gonna see it anyway.”

She startles, spins around with a teddy bear clutched hard to her chest, and meets Henry’s amused eyes. He’s one of the few who don’t look silly with that black, overly large gown on, but maybe this is motherly pride talking. She smiles, stands up, and brushes dust off her dress.

“What is ridiculous is that a fine young man like yourself still need his old mother to help him with his tie. Did Emma send you?”

“You’re not old,” he says with a frown as she makes quick work of the tie. “And yeah, she did.”

The words go unsaid, but not unheard _– “of course she noticed” – “I’m so proud of you” – “I know you’re sad”._

She cradles his face, her touch almost weak until his strong hands settle over hers.

“We should probably go, now, you’re going to be late.”

“I think I wanna stay for a few minutes. I’m not ready to go yet.”

She hears; she moves to enfold him in her arms with a gasp, and holds on to his shoulder as she pulls back to guide him towards the boxes.

“If you’re willing to hear embarrassing stories of your childhood on your big day, then, by all means.”

They sit on the ground without a care in the world, mother and son, going back through years of happiness and storms and enduring love, laughing at Emma’s strange fixation for taking their pictures unaware. Regina doesn’t notice the tears on her cheeks until a warm weight settles against her back and sure and soft hands gently wipe them off. Emma has come to join them. She leans back, Henry drops his head to her shoulder, they tangle their hands together, and they wait, wait until they are ready for time to fly ahead again, until they are ready to watch their son grow up.


	9. Your Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 9: How does their first date go? (500 words)**

She has no fucking clue what is going on right now and she’s getting seriously pissed about it. Sure, it’s not the first time that Regina is acting completely irrational and hostile towards her but dammit, you’d think that after all these years of fighting monsters side by side and raising a kid who’s too smart for his own good and enduring Storybrooke folks’ borderline terrifying stupidity, she might have gotten a pass for an explanation, hell, even a little warning. So what if she’s a bit late, what if she made fun of Regina’s overly-dressed attire for tonight, it’s not like her majesty lays off on the sarcasm herself…

“I’m sorry I was late for dinner, okay? I just couldn’t let Leroy fist fight Blue until she lost her teeth. Man, you would think he’d gotten his shit together after Astrid quit the frock, but everytime Blue so much as sneers at the girl…”

She shakes her head, lost in her story until she notices Regina’s utterly unimpressed stare and the frustrated dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a perfectly folded napkin. Emma frowns, getting worried than this might have more to do than her own tardiness or one of Regina’s infamous bad mood.

“Regina? Come on, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Miss Swan. Once again, you were so busy playing the heroic Sheriff you forgot basic manners. I suppose putting on an appropriate outfit was too much of a strain as well?”

Emma bristles. “Appropriate outfit? Well, excuse me if I don’t wear casual Chanel in the – hang on.”

She looks around her, taking in the atmosphere of Regina’s dinning room, and her jaw drops.

“Oh crap. The candles. The red napkins. Your dress. Henry’s sleeping over at the loft for the night… _this is a date_.”

Regina quirks an eyebrow at her. “It’s a wonder you weren’t elected Sheriff before with those miraculous deduction skills.”

She puts her napkin aside and gives Emma a somewhat vulnerable look.

“But clearly there was a misunderstanding somewhere. When you told me that for all the making out and pratically living with each other part we never went on a proper date yet, I assumed… and then you told me you couldn’t wait until tonight… but I misinterpreted your interest. I apologize.”

She rises from her chair and goes to grab her pratically untouched plate to take to the kitchen, but Emma is at her side in a second, hugging her tight from behind and dropping a kiss to her exposed neck.

“I am a blundering, clueless idiot and you’re not going anywhere. I have orgasmic lasagna to finish, and there’s kind of a romantic evening going on that I’ve been looking forward to for a really long time.”

Regina turns around in her arms, smile open and hurt fading from her eyes, gentle fingers stroking her chin, velvet voice purring into her ear:

“I believe, Miss Swan, it only just started.”


	10. Mujer contra mujer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 10: How does Henry feel about them? Snow? the rest of the town? (200 words)**

She sees it under the table. It’s hidden and precious; nonchalant and meaningful. It’s a brush of a palm over a thigh, fingers threading together, holding. Staying. As Snow sees Emma grab Regina’s hand, she understands. But it’s not about the tender gesture, the iconic expression of romance; it’s the way Regina dips her head and bites her lip, cheeks blushing just a shade deeper, lips shivering with a smile; it’s the way Emma burns with a light shining through, laughter dancing in her eyes, not holding back. The people at the diner have ceased to exist. They’re not trying to conceal it, they’re not displaying it either; it’s there. It’s them. Together. And happy.

 

Snow smiles, elation tinged with pain, but it’s not the kind of pain that hurts, it’s pain that makes you grow. David touches her shoulder lightly, drawing her attention back to him.

 

“What is it,” he says, frowning a bit, he looks at them too but he doesn’t see, not yet, not like she does, not out of any insight but because it’s obvious in its simplicity, in its beauty, in its evidence.

 

She answers, her smile broad and her word proud.

 

“Hope.”

 


	11. Le ridicule ne tue pas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 11: Where do they go on vacation? Do they bring Henry? Do the Charmings tag along? If so, who loses it first? (600 words)**

Every vacation is a tough negociation and a hard-won battle for the Swan Mills (Charmings included depending on Regina’s ability to withstand them on a daily basis) family. The destination is decided throught fierce competitions that tend to go a little overboard. Like that time during a magical showdown where Emma accidentally conjured a starship that looked suspiciously like the Millenium Falcon and crashed it into the clocktower. Regina had been fuming over the hole in the infrastructure budget her little stunt had made, and Emma had wisely promised she would let her chose their destination for two years while offering her best Charming smile.

This year, she’s won though, thanks to her extensive knowledge of cheesy karaoke songs (Henry chose the competition category as the only, somewhat innocent party), and despite Regina’s pout, Emma has stuck to her idea. And is actually grinning at a very pissed-off ex-Evil Queen in their hotel room in Florida.

“Absolutely not, Miss Swan.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve definitely worn uglier headpieces in the Enchanted Forest.”

“I am not putting mouse ears on my hair, stop pestering me.”

“For the picture?”

“Please, Mom,” Henry chimes in, his smile sweet and his eyes twinkling, and as always, it’s enough to sway Regina.

She sighs deeply, grabs the headband with barely the tip of her fingers, holding it far from her body like it’s infested with germs, before reluctantly putting it on her head, closing her eyes as if expecting thunder to strike her.

Emma cheers and Henry laughs, and two arms wrap around her waist, one lanky and awkward, the other comforting and intimate. She opens her eyes, staring at the camera with a mocking smile, her head dropping to Emma’s shoulder while she takes the picture. That she feels silly with those things on her head is irrelevant compared to what she feels now, in the loving embrace of the two people that are the most precious to her in any universe. Irrelevant compared to their easy smiles and unburdened laughters. She chuckles too, nods to Henry as he goes off to see how his grandparents are settling in their own room, and turns to face Emma, letting the blonde grab her arms and linking them behind her neck.

“You didn’t think you could escape Disney World forever, did you?”

“Given how you’ve bought all these insanely ridiculous props at least three years ago? I wouldn’t entertain the thought.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise. You’ll get to throttle all the Snow White dolls and complain loudly about the factual inaccuracy.” Emma smiles and gently brushes her fingers against the headband. “Besides. You’re kinda cute with this on.”

Regina gives her a sly smile, and drawls: “To be perfectly honest, Miss Swan, this wasn’t the outfit I had planned to spend my vacations in. Such a shame. It was a lovely little black number.”

Emma lifts an eyebrow and steps closer. “You know there’s a jacuzzi on the balcony… in case you wanna try on this new outfit of yours…”

Regina’s fingers begin stroking lazy circles at the base of her nape, and she brings Emma’s mouth on her own, gently nibbling her lower lip.

“Hm. Well, if we must absolutely engage in indecent behavior while your parents are in the next room… I have one condition, Miss Swan.”

Regina smirks at Emma’s inquisitive look, breathes in her ear:  “You will keep wearing the mouse ears. Nothing else.”

“Kinky, your majesty.”

“I have to make this hell worthwhile. Now, off with your clothes, Sheriff.”


	12. Your fight is over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 12: What is something they still can’t agree on? (900 words)**
> 
> Warning for main character death. My mind takes me to dark places sometimes. Though, I don't consider what I've written sad. I find it hopeful. But it's up to you to make up your own mind about it :)

Her breathing is light, the swell of her chest barely disturbing the covers, her softly wrinkled face smooth and easy.

Peaceful.

She opens her eyes quickly when Emma takes her hand, the rich brown as warm as it used to be, holding a brightness age has never dulled. But Regina’s smile is slow, frail as a newborn bird.

“You’ve finally decided to stop being a pig-headed mule about this, Miss Swan?”

Her voice is the same. Deep, stirring the softest parts of her soul. Emma laughs.

“I never agreed to this,” she says, low, stroking the long, still lush and dark hair. Her own whitened fast, but Regina’s stayed vividly black, rare streaks of silver lightening the only sign of time passed.

“I don’t want you to be the first to go.”

“That’s something we would never have agreed on, dear. I’m technically thirty years older than you and a queen. I get to leave the scene earlier.”

Emma laughs again, and though the sound is brittle and wet, it’s genuine, raw, something only Regina could draw out of her at this painful moment. This is the woman she fell in love with, sharp and witty, fire untamed by the years, this is the woman she spends every day of their life together falling in love with. Regina chuckles along and starts to cough, silently and breathlessly, and Emma rubs soothing circles on her chest with her hand.

“Where’s Henry?” Regina asks once she has her breathing under control again.

“He went downstairs, probably to try to keep my parents occupied.” She smiles. “You know once they invade your room there’s no making them leave.”

Regina nodded, her eyes closed, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“Trust Snow White to come to annoy me on my deathbed.”

“Don’t say that word,” Emma grabs her hand, hard, and it hurts.

“Emma. We’ve been through too much to hide behind lies and illusions. We’ve outgrown them. And I feel it… it’s time for me to go.”

“No.” Emma’s eyes are wild, and through the wrinkles of time Regina can see the lost girl on her face again, the orphan, desperate not to be left behind.

“Emma,” she breathes, her eyes boring into her with all the strength her body doesn’t possess anymore. “I love you.”

Emma smiles, and sobs, brings Regina’s hand to her lips, murmurs the words back against her skin. It doesn’t lessen the void her queen will leave behind, but it makes her feel less alone.

“Come here.” Regina opens her arms, and despite knowing how fragile she is right now and how she shouldn’t bother her, Emma can’t help but fall into them, effortlessly, sliding back home. She feels Regina shiver under her – she’s always cold – and gently, she prompts her to lie on her side, she slips under the cover, and spoons her, arms wrapped around her, protective, shielding, even against a reality she can’t fight.

“I will miss this,” Regina sighs, her voice drifting off, on the verge of slumber, and Emma’s tears start to fall, she sinks them into the frail skin of Regina’s neck.

“Don’t cry, dear,” Regina mumbles, a queen never mumbles, Emma cries harder. “It’ll hurt your pretty eyes…”

She waits until it’s safe to talk, until she’s not about to break into ugly wails. “Regina?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve never wished for a happy ending. I’ve never wished for an ending at all. It’s all I’ve ever known. Everything always ends. And I… I wanted a forever. At last. With you.”

She holds her tighter, a child who can’t let go, both naive and self-aware, hearing the absurdity of her words but still wishing them to become true.

Regina smiles, lenient, her shaking hands coming to rest on Emma’s where they’re pressing into her belly.

“Oh, Emma. We’ve crossed realms. We’ve destroyed curses. We’ve made magic that transcended the laws of the universe, we’ve literally been to Hell and back. We fell in love. Over and over again, we’ve pushed back the limits of the impossible. And you think such a mere trifle as death would be enough to end our story?”

She grits her teeth against the pain as she turns into Emma’s arms, their faces so close their noses bump into each other.

“I’ll always be with you,” she whispers, eyes half-closing already, and Emma’s eyes shine so clear and green, with tears and trust, flashing decades of memories, of a life fully lived  to the point they’ve lived a thousand of them, and Regina’s lids fall closed now, her hand cups Emma’s cheek, her lips brush against hers in a feathery kiss, her head falls back on the pillow, too heavy for effort, and she’s going away, Emma can see it, can see her leaving with the tide, sinking slowly.

“I’m going to sleep now, Emma. You can tell your parents… tomorrow… Henry… kiss him goodnight for me… I’m tired now. Emma…”

Emma’s fingers weave into Regina’s hair, she brings their mouths together once again, trying not to shake.

“Sshh. Rest now, my love. You’ve earned it. You can let go.”

She catches a glimpse of dark eyes opening briefly – grateful – and Regina’s breathing slows, she goes quiet and still, serene, unburdened at last.


	13. Payback's a witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 13: Who is ridiculously inappropriate and how much does the other tolerate it? (or do they switch off?) (600 words)**
> 
> How about some fun smut to make up for last chapter?

The thing with Regina is, she doesn’t play fair.

Even after they’ve stopped calling this affair of them casual sex and recognized they’d fallen into an actual relationship (both completely shocked, yet surprisingly okay with it), they still haven’t learned not to play dangerous games in public. Games that Emma somehow always becomes the victim of.

Indeed, Regina, despite her obvious inability to keep her emotions in check, is strangely good at concealing her lust behind a mask of bored indifference. She’s becoming something of a master at never allowing Emma to rile her up in public. Emma, on the other hand, is remarkably helpless against Regina’s twisted idea of flirt. There’s something about having the Mayor’s bare feet pressing hard into her crotch under the table during town meetings that makes her come undone (or come. Period). She’s had to hide an orgasm more than once with a coughing fit, to the point where Sneezy has offered to give her a 50% discount on the cough syrups.

Yeah, Regina knows how to rattle her, alright.

Luckily, Emma has cooked up the perfect revenge.

 

It happens in the basement.

Turns out Emma has an appreciation for the dark encounters in dark alleys kind of thing, and Regina favors the added vibrations of the washing machine. It starts off with sorting out the dirty laundry, and ends up with Emma tugging at Regina’s clothes, insisting that she is _very dirty indeed_ and needs to take these off… and Regina quickly finds herself naked, fingered deep by a very enthusiastic Sheriff, legs bouncing off the machine she’s sitting on with every hard pump of Emma’s hand. She’s quite liberal with her moans, never one to keep quiet when in the heat of action, head thrown back and knuckles white on Emma’s shoulders, fighting to keep up the rhythm.

That’s when she hears her entrance door slam shut and her and Emma’s names being called. She recognizes the voices immediately despite her pleasure-fogged mind.

“You didn’t,” she gasps, and Emma smirks.

“I invited them to dinner tonight, I forgot to tell you? Of course I told them we had some extra work to do and might run a little late… that they should just let themselves in.”

She curls her fingers, thumb pressing hard on Regina’s clit, and the Mayor’s eyes screw shut, a feral groan ripped from her throat.

“What do you think, Madam Mayor? We done with work yet?”

Regina fights her hardest, bites her lips, digs her nails into her palms, twists and squirms in Emma’s hold, but once she’s worked up nothing can make her quiet down, and the obscene noises just keep flying from her mouth.

“You’ll pay for this,” she pants, gritting her teeth against the inevitable climax. Emma chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch, your majesty. Now, what will it be, your dignity or your orgasm?”

Regina rolls her eyes, grunts helplessly, then grabs Emma’s hair in a hard grip, crashing their mouths together, rutting her hips against her hand in a definitive answer that leaves no room for interpretation.

The moans that erupt in the basement are positively inhuman.

Dinner is a slightly awkward affair after that. David remains a constant shade of tomato and doesn’t dare meet Regina’s eyes. Snow keeps biting her lips, stifling her laughter. Regina smiles and makes small talk and eat nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed. Emma? Well, she’s trying not to choke on her wine, as invisible fingers graze her clit over and over again, tantalizing, never satisfying.

 

Yeah, payback’s a bitch. Especially when you’re up against a witch.


	14. Skinless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 14: Who is more likely to be absolutely intolerable when they’re sick? How about when the other is sick or gets hurt? How do they look after each other?**
> 
> That's when I started to lost it on the word count. Warning for mentions of past child abuse.

She’s a natural caregiver. She’s been a ruthless monarch, a madwoman and a mass murderer, but her hands that have bathed in blood for decades can touch your skin in the softest caress, expert and gentle as they rest on your forehead, brush back your hair, bring a spoon of soup to your weak lips or efficiently help you get changed. Regina has never been a people person, but Emma has always noticed the ease which with she takes care of others. She’s aware of the role this particular trait has played in her attraction to the woman, her own protective instincts acknowledging the protector in Regina, the emotional neglect of her childhood driving her to bathe in her warm, motherly attitude. It’s something that’s always been here, even in the frosty beginnings, this profund and seemingly endless ability to care and love, it was here, always here, hiding under layers of hatred and detachment and cruelty, but you could get a glimpse of the true nature of her heart in how she was with Henry, when she let herself feel it. It had been here. She just hadn’t learned to see, yet. Now, she sees, and it’s beautiful how she grows into that love.

But she’s still unable to allow people to care back.

Regina’s rarely sick. It might be the relative immunity raising a child has given her, or the tough lifestyle she forces on herself. If she’s unwell, she doesn’t show it.

 

Unfortunately for her misplaced pride, not all illnesses are easy to conceal.

 

She’s been lying in her bed for an hour now, blinds closed, body resting above the covers, wearing nothing but cotton underwears, mittens over her hands, tightly bound around her wrists, clasping them together so she can’t remove the things or scratch herself with it. The hives have broken out on her skin in the middle of a town meeting where she was handling the sensitive issue of school bullying. At first it had been hard to breathe, then everything became hot and sizzling, faces blurring in front of her eyes, her skin ran over by a thousand needles, itching and burning all at once to the point of madness. The trip at the hospital had seemed to last for hours. They didn’t find an allergic cause for her reaction and suggested it was due to stress. She’d been sent home with low-sedative antihistamines that didn’t do much to soothe the itching or her nerves, which is why Emma had finally came up with the solution to tie her hands before she scratched herself raw and bleeding, and had wisely stepped back of the room when Regina had hurled insults at her. She would have brushed it off and put it on Regina being a terrible patient, if she hadn’t seen something in her eyes – a flash of anxiety – that doesn’t sit well with her. Which is why she listens to no advice and ends up knocking sheepishly on Regina’s door after a giving her a moment to calm down, and lets herself in.

Regina throws her an aggressive glare, but the dried tears at the corner of her eyes doesn’t make it as threatening as the former queen would undoubtedly like it to be.

“I meant what I said, Emma. I want to be alone.”

“I meant what I said too when we first got together. I won’t let you push me away. Especially not when you need me.”

“I don’t need -” she gasps, screwing her eyes shut against the pain as the covers chafe her already irritated skin after she tried to straighten up on instinct. Emma sighs and goes to sit by her side on the bed, placing the cold compress she’s brought with her on Regina’s chest where the skin rash is particularly angry looking.

“Easy. You can yell at me while lying still, okay?”

Regina rolls her eyes but says nothing, visibly enjoying the momentary relief brought on by the cool cloth. They stay quiet for a few minutes, Emma regularly dipping the compress in the bowl of cold water she’s brought along, soothing as much of Regina’s skin as she can.

“So. You’re gonna tell me what makes you so anxious?”

Regina scoffs. “Besides the ugly, painful rash and the public humiliation you mean?”

“You think you would be mocked for this? Regina, they were worried about you. You scared them. Even those who still don’t like you very much. I know this town’s not very bright, but they wouldn’t make fun of a sick person.”

“A sick person,” she mutters darkly, her eyes dropping down her body where her tied hands are resting. Emma follows her gaze, frowns. Cautious and gentle, she points to Regina’s hands.

“Something you wanna tell me?”

She softly dabs at Regina’s face with the cloth, in soothing, circular motions, it’s unneeded because her face at least is unscathed, but she can tell Regina appreciates it by the way her eyes flutter closed for a few seconds in a row, the way her breathing gentles.

“I used to suck my thumb as a child. Until I was… five I think.” Regina’s eyes are completely shut now, avoiding Emma’s. She licks her lips before speaking again. “My mother hated it, naturally. Not only was it bad for my teeth, but it wasn’t the kind of immature behavior she wanted me to display to others. She tried many things, she slathered my thumbs in disgusting substances, took away my favorite toys, prevented me to see my father. I quickly stopped, but I slipped sometimes, especially at night when I didn’t know how to soothe myself otherwise. So my mother, she… she tied my thumbs to each of the bed posts. I… I couldn’t move from my bed all night. I couldn’t move. Not even to-” she swallows heavily, her head turning away. “To use the chamber pot. Mother was so angry whenever I had an accident. She-”

She stops, opening her eyes in fright, as if getting too lost in memories and afraid of not being able to come back, but Emma’s hand on her cheek is grounding, calling her back. Regina slightly lifts her hands to look at them.

“I remember how they would be cramped in the morning. I couldn’t use them for a few hours. I couldn’t even hold a spoon.”

She barely feels Emma untying the knots, barely feel the tear pregnant with shame roll on her cheek. She shrugs.

“She did that for a week. It worked. I never sucked my thumb again, not even by mistake, not even in my sleep.”

She smiles as Emma brings her freed hands to her lips, kissing her knuckles in tender apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Regina squirms, slightly uncomfortable under Emma’s intense look.

“You should have told me. You should have freed yourself with magic, I – I would never tie you up against your will, I just wanted to help-”

She shuts up as Regina’s finger press over her lips.

“You did help me, Emma. It’s my fault for not telling you, but I’m afraid I wasn’t in the right mindset to. I’m sorry I was so awful with you earlier. And to be honest, I… I tend to forget I have magic when I face some… triggering situations. It sends me back to a time where I was helpless. Weak.”

“You’re not,” Emma urges, and Regina strokes her cheek, then winces as her body reminds her of her predicament, and her fingers start scratching at Emma’s skin in pure reflex.

“Ugh. I’d better put on these gloves again.”

“I have a better idea.”

 

And this is how Regina Mills finds herself soaking in a bathtub filled with cool water and powder oatmeal, while Emma gently combs her hair and treats her to funny tales of the last baby Neal disaster. It’s a home remedy she’s learned from her foster mother, Emma has told her, one of the few that were good to her (she didn’t need to tell Regina that part, she knows). She used to take them to soothe her eczema as a kid.

Regina finds herself relaxing as her skin no longer burns her, as Emma’s fingers work wonders on her scalp, as her voice quiets her frayed nerves.

She starts to think it might not be so bad, this having someone take care of her thing.

Not that she would ever admit it to Emma’s laughing, knowing eyes.


	15. No place like home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 15: Do they have a pet? Who wants a dog? Cat? Some weird animal Henry picked out? Who shows up one day with a stray?**

This would be a ‘look what the cat dragged in’ situation, were Emma actually a cat, and the mutant-looking animal she carries in her arms, dead. Unfortunately, it’s very much alive, ugly, and _smelling_.

“No way in hell,” Regina says firmly, almost slamming the door on Emma’s sheepish face.

But she comes in, of course, and gives the mutt a bath in her bathroom, no less (guest bathroom. She wouldn’t have hesitated to resort to murder otherwise), and then it’s a flurry of agitation as Henry brings in as many old blankets as he can find, as Emma ponders whether or not it’s wise to move the beast to the vet to treat its minor injuries until Regina groans and heals it with a wave of her hand, and then the thing is messily eating in her pristine kitchen, and this is not what she had signed for when she decided she would start punching Emma Swan with her mouth from now on.

“It was hurt, Regina, there was so much rain, it looked so pitiful just lying there behind Granny’s… I mean I know you were a heartless witch once, but even at the top of your evilness you wouldn’t have let a puppy out in the cold to die, would you?”

Beautiful, blessed, stupid Emma Swan. 

 

Okay, no, she probably wouldn’t have. Even crazy, murderous monarchs need to draw the lines somewhere, as she so often told Cruella.

At first, it’s just for a few days, while it recovers. Enough to learn that he’s a male dog, he’s got one blue eye and one black – Emma already calls him Bowie – and the colour of his fur is not to be found on any palette. He’s well educated, considering. At least he understood on the very first day that pissing on her rosebush was punishable by broom shoves.

He gets better, eats with gusto, puts on a healthy weight and barely limps anymore. Henry teaches him tricks that Regina doubts most humans she knows would be capable of. But she’s always sold this town short, or so Emma says.

Regina reminds her every once in a while that she still needs to find him a home and Emma nods, promises she will write the ads, and takes the mutt she insists on calling Bowie for a walk, a look of pure childish glee on her face. She never writes the ads. She always forgets.

Maybe Regina would have tried to be firm if she hadn’t picked up the clues, if she hadn’t heard Emma talk to the dog late in the night about how they would find him a great family that would never hurt him or neglect him again, how they loved him and it wasn’t his fault he was sent away, he didn’t do anything wrong but they just couldn’t keep him – at which point she heard the distinct noises Emma made when she tried to cry silently and Regina had to go back to her room, lie in the dark and stare at the ceiling, knuckles white from clenching her fists so hard, musing over broken childhoods.

She has her own reasons for not wanting a pet, that she’s never shared with Emma, something her lover understands. They don’t have to share every skeleton in the closet, and it wouldn’t bring her any relief or closure talking about this one.

She knows what could do though.

 

When Emma comes back from work the next day, there’s a new dog bed in the living room, a beautiful adjustable leather leash hanging off the coat rail. Regina is sitting on the couch, frowning over the newspaper while she absent-mindedly scratches behind the dog’s ears. He’s never been allowed to sit next to her before.

“He still needs a proper name,” Regina says casually, acting nonchalant against Emma’s beaming smile. “And we need to take him to the vet to neuter him. And please, Miss Swan, from now on refrain from teaching him your terrible manners. We do not need another troublesome child in this house.”

Regina gasps in surprise as Emma suddenly engulfs her in a tight embrace, an awkward one as she’s standing while Regina is still sitting. Her arms shake around her neck.

“Thank you,” she chokes against the top of her head, and Regina smiles, letting herself go against Emma’s chest, her own arms tenderly wrapping around her waist.

“Don’t mention it, dear.”

“I love you, you know?”

She slowly raises her head, looking up at Emma who’s looking down with watery eyes and that apologetic smile she gets whenever she feels emotionally overwhelmed, like she’s ashamed of showing it. Regina gently disentangle herself from the embrace, taking Emma’s hands into her own, bringing them to her lips.

“I love you too,” she says softly, always so softly, as if it might disturbs fate.

She feels a warm weight on her thigh, and the dog – Bowie, since she already knows Emma will have the last word on this – almost seems to smile at her, his blue eye twinkling. She glares at him.

“He’s not sleeping on the bed.”

Emma laughs. Bowie barks.

 

(He sleeps on the bed).

 


	16. Check the grin, you're in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 16: Which of them is ridiculously oblivious about them being more than gal pals (Emma? Regina? both?) and who is hella frustrated about it? What does the latter person/people do?

There’s a lot to be said about Snow White’s character, but contrary to what has been portrayed in the movies, she is not a sweet-tempered and bashful girl that doesn’t dare to speak her mind, nor is she particularly patient with anyone’s bullshit. At least not when that bullshit comes from her daughter and the other most important woman in her life, Regina.

 

But they are so frustratingly _oblivious_.

 

And yet they’re so obvious, even to the bystander’s eyes.

 

First there were those daily lunch-meetings at Granny’s or in Regina’s office, where work was used as a pretense (what can possibly happen in a town as quiet as Storybrooke when it’s not under magical attack that you would need _daily_ conversations about it?), then the renewal of magical lessons that never seemed to improve Emma’s abilities but that somehow her daughter still deemed _really super important_ , and lately there’d been Emma moving into Regina’s house after her studio had been destroyed in a dragon’s fire (Snow remains convinced Lily did it on purpose), arguing that it was better for the kid until she could find a new place, but it’s been weeks now and she still hasn’t started looking out for a new home, and Snow is really sensing a pattern here. Not to mention the fact that they’re sharing clothes – something that, when she had very subtly pointed the fact out to Emma, her daughter had shrugged off with a distracted “Well I’m shit at keeping up with the laundry schedule, and Regina has too many clothes anyway.”

 

The extent of their denial is unbelievable and it’s starting to give her insomnia while she tosses and turns in her bed, thinking about how she could make the two realize they’re acting more married then even Charming and her.

 

She eventually explodes in the middle of dinner at what she now calls in her head the Swan-Mills household when Regina absent-mindedly pecks Emma on the cheek after she offers to do the dishes.

 

“Alright, that’s it you two, I’ve had enough!”

 

They both look at her like deers caught in the headlights, and she would laugh if she wasn’t so exasperated.

 

“Does no one realize what is happening here? How long are you gonna both pretend that you’re not a couple?”

 

Henry sniggers, apparently unsurprised – well, he’s always been a perceptive child – and Emma swats him lightly on the arm.

 

“Shut it, kid.”

 

“I told you she would figure it out!”

 

“What is going on here?” Snow asks, looking from Henry’s smug face to Emma and Regina’s slightly blushing ones.

 

“Well,” Emma says after a light cough, “let’s just say that we might have had an epiphany yesterday, and that you’re a little late to the I-told-you-so party.”

 

“I’ve been trying to make them see it for days,” Henry chimes in (he looks strikingly like Charming when he’s so pleased with himself), “but jeez, they are stubborn. Though now that I’ve seen them pratically swallowing each other’s mouth, I’m not sure I’m so thrilled by the idea anymore… that was gross.”

 

“Henry!” they both reprimand him with matched frowns, before looking back at Snow with similar anxious expressions. She sighs, dropping her hands on the table in defeat.

 

“Honestly. You two have been so exhausting, I’m not even sure I have enough energy to be happy right now.”

 

There’s a pause while she fights to keep a straight face, and then a beaming smile parts her lips.

 

“I lied, of course I am happy. I’m so happy for you both! Finally!”

 

“So you’re… okay with this?” Regina asks hesitantly, and Snow notices she’s the most surprised and most desirous of her approval, and that Emma has a protective hand on her shoulder and unsettled eyes. Snow nods, slowly, reaching out from across the table to touch Regina’s hand.

 

“Of course I am. I’ve had weeks to get used to the idea while you were acting like oblivious idiots in love.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes, but seems appreciative of her sass, and Snow smirks, before turning towards her daughter.

 

“I mean, if you don’t feel weird about dating the woman I’ve called ‘step-mother’ for ten years, then it’s alright with me, honey.”

 

There’s a grunt and “Ew, Mom, gross!” and Henry bursting out laughing and Regina protesting “Oh, come on, as if I’d let you,” and then she’s laughing too, while Emma burrows her face in Regina’s neck with a whine.

 

“There, there, dear,” Regina says soothingly, patting her shoulder. “I’m afraid obnoxious parents with terrible jokes are the price for upgrading your dating standard.”

 

“And now, you know how I feel about you guys commenting on my love life,” Henry sympathizes joyously.

 

“I guess it’s a small price to pay,” Emma mumbles into Regina’s neck. “As long as I can have you.”

 

There definitely are not tears in Snow’s eyes as she watches them exchange a chaste, yet tender kiss, and her laugh definitely doesn’t sound emotional as Henry whispers in her ear “I told you. Gross.”


	17. They Will Be Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woops sorry I forgot to add the rest, I think I only have like, five of them left to write? In the meantime, enjoy what's already done ;)
> 
> **March 17: What is their first fight about? How do they deal with it? Are there angry texts/calls or do they take space or do they deal especially terribly with it? (500 words)**

The rain always used to bring her comfort.

 

She welcomed its gentle fingers tap-dancing on the window with a smile of gratitude, as if it was the greeting of a long expected friend that came to say goodnight at last and send her off to sweet dreams. The rain drowned out the other sounds, the creaking noises of houses she never had time to get used to, the snoring or quiet weeping of the other kids whose names had long faded, the yellings, sometimes, and the nightmares. The rain was constant, wherever she was sent off to, it would always come to find her.

 

She finds the same comfort tonight as it pours on her head, as heavy drops run along her spine and drench her clothes, and the cold is numbing for the burn she wears inside, the one she was foolish enough to mar herself with, the one she hopes will ease as she gazes in longing at the mansion’s entrance.

 

She’d bolted after the kiss. It hadn’t come as a surprise. The kiss. She’d been craving it for so long, she realized as her mouth opened hungrily, ready to be devoured by Regina’s sinfully soft lips. She’d witnessed the careful build-up to it in a daze, and she’d moaned in relief when a gentle tongue had caressed her own. And when it’d ended, she’d run.

 

There was all the mistakes she’d made bumping against each other in the night, too loud for clear thinking. They’d been the memories and the shame, Fate’s expectation, dead lovers, toxic attachments that turned sour and her selfish. There’d been the fear, gripping, encompassing, paralysing, of being hurt and hurting back.

 

There’d been a week of hiding and guilt.

 

A now a night of pouring rain while waiting on her doorstep.

 

She doesn’t know how long she stood there, working up the courage to ring. Long enough for her body to be on the verge of shattering under constant tremors.

 

And then there were hands, wonderfully warm on her arms.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

Her eyes – both the hardest and most expressive eyes she’s ever met – are drinking her in, blazing worry and betrayal, but the hands are soft already, rubbing with tenderness, caring and strong.

 

Emma smiles through blue lips.

 

“I’m an idiot. Please, take me back?”

 

Regina’s lips open in a silent gasp – it starts raining in her eyes too – and then the hands, so warm, loving hands are cradling her face, like it’s the most precious jewel.

 

“I never threw you out.”

 

Emma laughs – Emma breaks, swinging forward into Regina’s waiting chest, arms tight around her waist, cheek pressed into her shoulders.

 

“Thank you,” she sobs, as Regina’s fingers brush her wet hair. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

 

“Thank you for coming back,” Regina says quietly, and the lost girl and the neglected child cling to each other in the rainstorm, blossoming into women in love.

 


	18. To Have and To Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 18: Do they get married? Is there a proposal? How would that go (or not go)? (400 words)**

They’re not married.

 

But there’s a quick, sometimes distracted, always loving, kiss on her cheek sending her off to work every morning. There’s warm and drowsy arms opening for her at night, holding her through dreams and nightmares. There’s not a forgotten birthday, or a pancake-less morning. There’s shared clothes and shared showers, a family chore chart that’s actually followed through, bickering about the dog, flowers on the table, lazy meal trays in front of a movie, and muffled laughter under the covers before sleep.

 

They’re not married,

 

but she’s learned Regina’s body better than her own, can map out the web of veins and scars with her eyes closed, the bashful freckles in the crook of one elbow that she loves to tickle with her mouth, and all the shades of her smile. She knows all her shivers, and all her sounds (and yet it seems she always discover more, reckless explorer of the songs she hides deep), she reads her moods in the motions of her hand, she’s learned the way her breast bounce gently over her pounding heart, the precise angle of her neck as she arcs it in mindless pleasure, the perfect fit of her warm entrance tightening like a silk glove around her fingers. She sees a field of gently goldened skin when she closes her eyes.

 

They’re not married,

 

but they know each other’s wounds so intimately, they’ve spent years quietly licking away the old scars festering in the cradle of their bodies, brushing the parts of their souls that have been too sore for love to touch, that Emma knows better than to ask.

 

They’re not married, but there’s a day when it happens, in the course of an unsignificant conversation where Regina loses patience with the school’s headmistress, and she hears, _My wife and I_ , flowing so easily, and her hand tightens around her pen, she doesn’t dare to look up because her smile is riping her face in half, and when it’s over and the door is closed and they’re alone in the corridor Emma pushes her – Regina, her lover, her other half, her wife in all the ways that matter – against the lockers, and there’s a bemused laugh yet tender scolding, _Miss Swan, this is hardly the time to act like horny teenagers_ , and Emma feverishly carves her wedding vows into Regina’s mouth again, and again, and again.


	19. a dream dressed like a nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a delightful fanart on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> **March 19: What do they dress up as for Halloween/idk whatever holiday they celebrate which involves dressing up? (500 words)**

“This is a disaster.”

Both Emma and Henry turn around, their mouths falling open and their eyes bulging when they take in the vision standing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs.

And then Henry becomes _hysterical_ and Emma claps her hand over her mouth to stiffle her undignified hoots.

Regina crosses her arms over the navy blue corset encasing her chest, the short, puffy sleeves of her dress completing the illusion of a toddler in the middle of an earth-shattering tantrum.

“When you two are quite done behaving like hyped monkeys,” she hisses, “maybe you’ll allow me to go upstairs to change into something decent and end this ridiculous ordeal.”

“Nope,” Emma says immediately, wiping off tears at the corners of her eyes. “A bet’s a bet, your majesty. Don’t be a sore loser.”

“It’s actually quite cute, Mom,” Henry reassures her with a wicked grin, and the glare she gives him in return would give a grown man nightmares.

“There’s no way I’m going to the town Halloween party in this horrifying garb, Miss Swan.”

“Hey, I made a point of finding you the finest quality for this costume, show some gratitude lady, I had to go through so much pink websites my eyes can’t ever unsee that color.”

“And you know Grandma is gonna have a field day seeing you like that,” Henry cackles, while his mother looks on the verge of harving a nervous breakdown at the thought, and looks at Emma with pleading eyes. The Sheriff sighs, and gets up from the couch, walking to her lover, who immediately takes a step back and looks away with a pout, standing still against the teasing kiss Emma lays on her cheek.

“You know you’ll still be the most beautiful woman at the party, right? Despite the 12-years-old’s outfit?”

Regina snorts, and rolls her eyes, biting her lips against a smile as Emma starts pecking her cheek and Henry leaves the living-room with a nonchalant “Gross, guys,” and soon she’s laughing, fighting the Sheriff off as the kisses start tickling her neck.

“Enough! I’ll go. But know that when I get revenge for this, it’s going to hurt.”

Emma flashes her a wide smile.

“I can’t wait. Oh, I almost forgot!”

She runs to the kitchen under Regina’s bewildered look, and comes back with a shiny red apple in her hand and the most infuriating shit-eating grin.

“For accuracy. You’ll have to bite into this apple at some point tonight, _Snow White_.”

Regina grunts, pockets the apple in her disgustingly yellow skirt, before looking up at Emma, eyes roaming over her leather outfit, pausing on her pushed-up breasts with a devious glint.

“Oh, but don’t worry, dear. There’s quite a few things I plan to bite, tonight.”

She struts proudly on her way out and Emma watches her leave with heat in her eyes.

“Damn. Who knew a Disney princess could be so racy.”


	20. A thousand miles seem pretty far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naughty smut ahead.
> 
> **March 20: How do they deal with significant time apart?**

She’s on her as soon as she hurls through the door, hungry mouth and rash fingers tugging at her collar, ripping her jacket off and on the floor. Emma takes a breath and takes her in her arms, hands digging gratefully in the round flesh of her ass as Regina locks her legs around her.

“You said only a month,” Regina pants against her ear, tugging her locks punishingly, angling her neck up for a proper kiss.

“I’m only two days late,” she gasps, as soon as Regina stops bruising her lips.

She hisses as high heels dig sharply into the back of her thighs, almost sending her tumbling to the floor with the precious load in her arms.

“A queen doesn’t wait,” Regina informs her gravely, hands cupping her cheeks painfully, eyes intent and dark.

“Then let’s not waste another moment,” Emma smirks, and there’s the familiar cloud of purple smoke and the intimate scent of her magic – she missed it too, missed everything about her – and they’re on the bed, awkward in a tangle of limbs, both naked, it seems Regina is that impatient, and Emma can’t blame her.

Still, she starts slow and reverent, licking with great care every inch of her lover’s skin, rediscovering all the landmarks, all the secret spots, reveling in the feel and heat of the flesh she missed so much, in the taste and smell she’d had mourned for in the foreign sheets in her lonely hotel room.  

She riles her up quickly, though, Regina’s sensitivity and want increased by absence, and her loud moans and strangled curse words unravel Emma piece by piece.

She dives in for the prize at the apex of smooth olive thighs shimmering with sweat, and breathes her in, closing her eyes as her nose gently parts her folds, as her tongue, almost shyly, comes out to lap gently at her cunt.

That’s when Regina loses it and brings her back up roughly.

“I want you now,” she commands, and Emma gulps, knowing what she means.

Regina helps her turn around slowly, allows her body to cover hers, and Emma lets herself fall headfirst into Regina’s deliciously warm center again, even as her thighs are parted and she feels Regina smiling into her sex. She groans, her hips twitch, and she starts licking, licking until her jaw hurts, until she screams her pleasure into Regina as her lover pumps hard with her tongue in her tight entrance, thumb swaying over her clit like an irresistible tide. It builds and rises until she comes with a ‘fuck’ on her lips and a hard bite on Regina’s thigh, and it only takes a few seconds after her for Regina to tense, vibrate as if she’s about to fly, and gush into her mouth, hips bucking wildly, and Emma stills them with tender hands as she drinks and drinks the source of her heat.

They almost fall asleep, after that, Emma’s cheek resting languidly on Regina’s thigh even as she’s turned on her side, and Regina is gently stroking her foot, still flat on her back, breathing harder (she takes longer to recover), and sometimes dropping a quick kiss to one of her feebly wiggling toes.

“I’m no longer allowing you out. You’re forbidden to leave my side. In fact we should never depart from this room again.”

Emma smiles lazily, drawing senseless patterns around Regina’s knee.

“Please. You’d kick me out yourself after a week.”

“Not when you provide satisfying orgasms.”

“Satisfying? Your thighs are still shaking, honey.”

“Don’t call me honey if you value your life, Swan.”

There’s a giggle, and a kiss, a quivering knee, Emma whispering softly against her skin: “I much more value yours,” and Regina finally moves down to meet her, stretching out on her side too, facing her so closely their noses touch with each motion, and their hands link together, and it’s quiet murmurs and confessions and drowsy kisses, both of them bridging the longing left by absence touch by touch.


	21. That sick color in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **March 21: Is there a jealous one- as either friends or partners? How do they both cope with that?**

It’s a game of pretending.

 

She pretends to hate her first.

She pretends Fate hasn’t rolled the dice in her disadvantage, that she doesn’t have to kill the woman who could save her, that she’s not meant to be defeated by the woman she could love.

She pretends, after, too.

She pretends this is a woman who cares for her. Who listens to her. Who believes in her. Who could, even, become a friend.

She pretends it’s a story that could be written for an Evil Queen.

She pretends it doesn’t hurt when everything turns into ashes.

She keeps pretending, until she can’t.

Until the lies are too obvious, too ludicrous to fool even her desperatly starved heart.

The lie that she has a chance to be seen as someone other than she is, a chance at love.

The lie that they have more in common than a son.

The lie that she’s not fighting against odds that are too great to win against – Henry’s father. A man that hasn’t had decades of blood feud against her family.

The lie that it doesn’t eat her alive to see her share her light, offer her lips to undeserving men.

The lie that there’s a universe where she’s good enough for Emma Swan.

She smiles to her like it hurts, like she could still believe in love, and the end, she’s still able to give Emma the happy ending she’s always wanted.

Without her.

She stares until she’s only imagining the spot of yellow in the purple smoke, and she pretends one last time, that her heart isn’t dying, and that she doesn’t ache for the family of two people who’d smile to her in the morning, for a love story she’d get to write herself.

 

She pretends one last time, and turns away for good.

 

She knows better than to try, anyway.

 

.

 

She feels it building, everyday.

 

A feeling that’s not to be fought, not to be understood.

Not to be pursued.

It begins warm and hopeful, low in her chest, tickling her heart, and she mistakes it for gratitude at the woman who went through the worst heartbreak to give her everything.

It goes on hot and piercing, churning in her stomach, and she mistakes it for anger at being forced to shoulder a role she never accepted and never asked for, against the woman keeping her son in the town she wants to flee by the strength of her love.

It’s a steady fire at night keeping her from sleep, reshaping all their conversations, remembering all the undertones, hearing her laughter hit her ear like a wave.

It burns loud and bright when she’s the one Regina smiles for. And the flames wither pale and green when her smile is for him.

When she understands the feeling that was born in her chest and has taken over her entire body, she’s already lost her. Seeing her happy with someone else shouldn’t make her heart feels like it’s about to drop on the floor. It shouldn’t be hard, to be happy for her friend. Fighting for Regina’s happiness shouldn’t let a bitter taste into her mouth.

 

It’s not like she has anything better to offer.

 

It’s too late to try, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :/ I don't understand what happened...


	22. my dragon's got humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! I'm going away on vacations for two weeks, so I'll post the very last prompts of this little series when I get back ;) thank you for reading, and also for the feedback!
> 
> I leave you with some dragon queen on top of the swan queen... (no not like THAT). I'm spoiling you too much.
> 
> **March 22: Who is secretly the Number One Swan Queen shipper? Who is anti af about it? How do they meddle? How do our girls react to that?**

It takes Emma coming home with yet again another roasted pair of jeans for Regina to finally step in.

“Emma, this is the fourth time this month. At this rate you’re not gonna have any clothes left by the end of the year. Are you sure you didn’t do anything to set her off?”

The Sheriff shimmies out of her ruined jeans, throws it in the trash with a mournful look, and sits her panties-clad ass on the nearest kitchen chair available with a loud sigh and a thump as her forehead meets the table.

“I told you,” she muffles against the wood. “Aside from what my parents did to her, and the fact that I pierced her with a sword, I have no idea why she’s so mad at me. But to be honest, that alone would be sufficient for anyone to hold a lifetime grudge against me and my family.”

Regina starts tossing the salad with a pensive frown.

“I don’t think this is it. Maleficent can hold a grudge, that’s true – she’s a dragon, after all – but she usually won’t be petty about it, and she doesn’t do things by half. If she were really mad at you, Emma, she would try to kill you.”

“Er, my scorched butt says she did try.”

Regina grants her an indulgent smile, puts the salad bowl down and reaches for the plates to set the table instead.

“Trust me, that’s not even close to trying. And anyway. She decided not to take revenge on your parents for what they did, so it’d made no sense to take it out on you.”

She ignores Emma’s muttering about revengeful people not necessarily being the soundest persons.

“Also, she doesn’t care much about physical injuries, so your little stunt with the sword probably went unnoticed. No. It must be something else.”

 

She eventually gets it out of Maleficent two days later as she corners her in the back-alley behind the Rabbit Hole, fireball at the ready in her hand that is probably as frightening to the dragon as a glass of water would be, but Regina is too frustrated with her friend to put it out.

“Are you gonna speak, you winged lizard, or do I have to reach down your throat to make you spit it out?”

Maleficent gives her the usual slightly-annoyed-and-not-overly-impressed-but-I-still-would-eat-you-for-breakfast-in-a-gay-way kind of look, and crosses her arms over clothes that were probably the height of fashion eighty years ago.

“Lovely. Seems the precious Savior is having a terrible influence on your manners.”

Regina rolls her eyes at the obvious bullshit.

“Oh, please. It’s not as if I’ve ever been a model of virtue before. Now, I want you to tell me what the hell is going on with you and Emma. I do not take kindly to having my lovers turned into barbecue.”

Maleficent shrugs.

“She’s a heroic, pricky, goody two-shoes with the unfortunate flaw of having been born a Charming. What’s there not to dislike?”

“Aside from the fact that it’s a fairly twisted misreading of her character, Charming lineage excepted, that’s not it. What is really bothering you about her?”

The dragon huffs, and avoids her gaze. Her voice is low, mournful when she eventually answers “She’s not good enough for you.”

Regina’s mouth fall open in a gasp. “You can’t be serious.”

Maleficent purses her lips and keeps looking away, so Regina takes a step forward, then another, fireball sizzling out gently, leaving her palm bare and hot, soothing as it touches her dear friend’s arm.

“Mal. You know that if love was about being worthy or good enough for someone, then I should never be allowed to have love again.”

“I would love you,” Maleficent says quietly, eyes unreadable, but voice brimming with emotions. Regina smiles, gently, caressing the arm underneath her hand.

“But that time has passed for us. This part of our story is over, now.”

“I know,” the dragon agrees without bitterness. “But I’m still your friend. And I’ll still care and worry about you and distrust the princesses you allow into your bed.” They share a conniving smile.  “I just don’t want you to have your heart broken again.”

“I know. But I trust Emma with it. Like I once trusted you. It’s my choice to make.”

Maleficent sighs, then lifts her hands to cradle Regina’s face, holding it still while she seeks for the answers in her eyes.

“So, I assume that you will ask of me to tone down the concern and dislike to non life-threatening interactions against your Sheriff.”

“That would be must appreciated, yes.”

There’s a grunt, and then Mal lets her go, giving her a quick nod.

“Very well, I’ll make an effort. But you must understand, it’s difficult for me to not harbor hard feelings towards the woman who’s both hooked up with my ex-lover and my daughter.”

Regina startles, giving her a sharp look. “What?”

The dragon’s lips spread into a smirk full of teeth.

“Come on, now, Regina, don’t tell me you hadn’t realized, yet. The gay vibes were off the chart with those two. Lily still gets that mawkish enamored look whenever she talks about her first meeting with Emma. It’s positively gruesome.”

Regina looks at her, mouth open, nostrils flaring for a minute, then groans and strides off towards her car.

“Where are you going?” Maleficent calls, amused, at her retreating figure.

“To go remind my idiotic Sheriff not to withhold important informations when they concern me and my former liaisons!”

Maleficent laughs quietly while Regina climbs into the Benz and slams the door. She watches her leave with a satisfied smirk, before vanishing into a cloud of smoke.


End file.
